Chapter 7: Kabir, Secrets, and a New Hope

I was the one who finally propped myself up and limped to the security office, hands brown with mud, pride the only thing left unbroken. The guard uncle offered me his handkerchief. 'Beta, take care. Tell your Dadi not to worry too much, haan?' I nodded, grateful for the rare kindness.

After Dadi found out about my dislocated kneecap, she became convinced it was because I was too heavy. She clucked her tongue, massaging my legs with ayurvedic oil, sighing as she tried to tempt me with a spoonful of ghee before putting it away, resigned. 'From now on, we have to watch your diet.' Every meal became a negotiation; my resentment simmered beneath my obedience.

I returned to school after two days of rest. The neighbourhood aunties had already started whispering, 'Poor Priya, she fell again? Maybe she should join yoga class.' Dadi fussed over my plait, giving me her blessing.

That morning, I only had a whole wheat egg sandwich Dadi made, and my stomach growled as I walked beneath the neem trees at the school gate. But soon, the class teacher arrived, sari pleats perfect, carrying the scent of jasmine and chalk. Behind her was an unfamiliar transfer student—mask, baseball cap, uniform crisp, moving with quiet confidence. He fiddled with a keychain shaped like a miniature Eiffel Tower, hinting at a foreign background.

'Kabir, sit next to Priya.' The teacher’s tone left no room for argument. Kabir nodded, sitting beside me, eyes fixed ahead. The PT monitor couldn’t help himself: 'Arjun bhaiya, look at that guy—he looks like a ghost, hiding his face. Maybe he’s disfigured?' Nervous laughter, someone muttering, 'Aye, shut up!'

Riya chimed in, 'Definitely. If he was good-looking, why hide his face?' The class tittered. 'Bhoot Bhaiya and Moti—what a pair.'

I kept my face blank, focusing on doodling tiny flowers in my notebook. Kabir didn’t react, just sat in silence, fiddling with his keychain.